


Starborn

by riseofthefallenone



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Astronomer!Dean, M/M, astronomer?Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:27:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1474783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riseofthefallenone/pseuds/riseofthefallenone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s obsession with the stars starts all thanks to Sam. He just didn't know where that would take him in life. Or who - or <em>what</em> - he would meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starborn

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a post on tumblr. I did the bare minimum research on astrology and astronomers and everything so there’s bound to be a ton of mistakes. Sorry! Forgive me ♥ 
> 
> I know I mention more characters than I’ve tagged, but I only tag the ones who actually speak and aren’t just, y’know, _mentions_. 
> 
> Much thanks to my friends who were willing to read and let me know what they thought of it and everything. ♥

Dean’s obsession with the stars starts all thanks to Sam.

Sammy is four and Dean is eight the day they camp out in the new backyard, laying on their backs on their sleeping bags and staring at the sky. This is their first night at the new house and Dad set up the tent as a surprise. He said it was part of Dean’s birthday gift even though his birthday isn’t for another three days.

Dean hasn’t even told him what he wants yet. He knows what he wants, but he can’t ask for it. Their new bedrooms aren’t set up yet and when they are, it’ll be the first time that Dean hasn’t shared his room with Sammy. He’s not looking forward to not having his little brother within whisper reach anymore. But Sammy’s the complete opposite of him. He’s excited to have his own room and he’s been talking all day about how he’s gonna decorate it.

Mom is gonna let them pick their own wallpaper or what paint to use, and they’re both getting cool bunk bed with storage and a desk underneath. They’ve got big steps with drawers in them instead of the old wooden ladder they used to use at the old apartment for their bunk beds that really _were_ bunk beds. Dean misses his old bed and his old room.

But at least the sky is nice. When Mom brought out cookies and milk, she told them that this new neighbourhood is still under development. That means there aren’t a whole lot of lights at this end of town yet. Less lights means the stars are brighter. Sammy likes it better than the view from their bedroom window in the old apartment. Dean likes it because Sammy likes it.

Before she went inside, she reminded them to go back into the tent before falling asleep. Dean knows and he’ll make sure Sammy does. Being the big brother, Dean always watches out for Sammy. That’s what Dad told him when Sammy was born and that’s what he’ll do to the day he dies. Sammy is always the most important and Mom and Dad can count on him to make sure Sammy is safe.

There’s more to being a big brother too. Dean has to know all the answers to everything – or at least know where he can get them. Sammy turns to him when he wants to know something (and Dean turns to Mom and Dad when he doesn’t have an answer to give). Tonight isn’t any different.

“What’re stars made of?”

He knows this one. Mom told him when they watched the Lion King together and she said Pumbaa was right. That doesn’t mean he has to tell Sammy the right answer first. “They’re fireflies. Fireflies that got stuck in the sky.”

Sammy snorts and giggles around a mouthful of cookies. “Timon says that.”

Dean laughs and sits up to drink from his big-boy cup. There isn’t any no-spill safety-top for it, not like Sam’s. “I was just foolin’ with ya. Stars are big balls of burning gas and they’re millions and billions and trillions of miles away.”

“Past the moon?”

“ _Way_ past.”

“The sun too?”

“Totally. Even past Pluto.”

“How many are there?”

Dean shrugs and tilts his head back to take a look. There’s way more than he can count, and he can count pretty darn high. “More than the numbers we got.”

Sammy is quiet for a little while, chewing on his last cookie, before he sits up too and turns to Dean. “Can we see them? I wanna see them.”

That trips Dean up. He knows there’s a way to do it. He can’t remember the word, but it’s like a pirate’s spyglass. They have a small one packed up in the boxes in his bedroom that he uses to play pirates with Sammy, but that only makes the other side of the room look closer. It’s not big enough to see the stars. He’s not even sure where you can get one big enough for that.

Instead of answering, Dean shrugs and yawns. “It’s bedtime, Sammy.”

“I wanna watch the stars more.”

“Mom said after we’re done the snack.” He points at the empty plate between them. “We’re done.”

His bottom lip sticks out in a pout. “Don’t wanna.”

Dean stands up and picks up his sleeping bag. “If we go to bed now, I’ll ask Dad to get us something to see the stars with.”

Sammy lights up at that, scrambling to get to his feet too. He holds out his little hand in a fist, smallest finger lifted. “Promise?”

“Promise.” And Dean _never_ breaks a pinky-swear.

The next day, first thing in the morning when Dad comes to wake them and carries a yawning Sammy inside, Dean asks for a spyglass to see the stars. He says it’s what he wants for his birthday even if it’s not completely for him. But that’s okay, because Sammy’s sleepy smile is totally worth it.

*

Looking at the stars with Sam starts as a hobby when they’re kids. By the time Dean graduates high school, it’s so far beyond that, it’s hitting the outer reaches of the solar system. His dad has even gone so far as to class it as a straight up _obsession_. And it’s one that he’s tried time and time again to get Dean to give up. He’d thought the job at the garage he co-owns with their uncle-but-not-an-uncle would get it out of Dean’s system, but a steady paycheck has only _fueled_ Dean’s ‘hobby’.

The only problem that Dean has, really, is not knowing what the hell to do with all the space and star knowledge crammed in his head. Good thing Sam is so damn smart.

“I think you should go to university.”

Dean takes out his headphones and sits up, because there’s no way he heard that properly. “What?”

Sam leaves the door of his room to sit on the edge of Dean’s bed at his feet. “I think that you should go to university. Enroll for the fall semester at the community college. Just do _something_ that’ll get you learning and moving and going.”

“Going _where_ , Sam?” He pulls his feet up under him, crossing his legs and giving Sam the room to mirror him. “We can’t afford it and I don’t even know what the hell I want to study.”

A frustrated frown twists Sam’s mouth and he points at the ceiling. Dean looks up and the only things there are the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars they stuck there a million years ago. “Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_.” Sam snorts and grins when Dean looks at him again. “Mom and Dad saved up college funds for us. It’s enough to get you started and the rest can be your own dime. Work the shop on weekends and in between studying. Get a damn _loan_ if you have to, but keeping going, Dean.”

“I’m not smart enough for university, Sammy.” Dean sighs, scooting back on his bed to lean against the wall. “Y’gotta be crazy smart to be an astronomer.”

That gets him a sock to the face, and with Sam’s feet it’s not small and it’s not exactly a bouquet of roses. “Your grades were some of the best and you’re already an astronomy geek for _fun_. Go get a goddamn PhD and start making _money_ out of it.” He gets up and goes to Dean’s desk where the box with his diploma is. “If you don’t believe me, believe this.”

Dean stares at the framed paper and _Graduated with Honours_ printed neatly under his name. He really doesn’t have anything to say to that, but Sam keeps staring at him expectantly. When has he ever been able to refuse Sam something he wants?

“Fine. I’ll start looking into it tomorrow. Don’t give me that look. I graduated _yesterday_. Let me have _one_ day off, okay?” He puts his ear-buds back in. “But Dad isn’t gonna like it.”

*

John doesn’t like it. He’s _thrilled_ that Dean wants to go to university, but the smile falls right off his face the moment Dean mentions astronomy.

“But that’s a _hobby_.” He insists, sitting opposite the table from where Mary and Sam are grouped around Dean and the book of courses offered from the local university. “You can’t go to school for a _hobby_. Go for something practical, like mechanical engineering.”

Dean only applied to the university yesterday, but he’s so late with doing it that he’s pretty sure he’s not going to get in for the Fall semester. If he _does_ get accepted, it would probably be better to start next year anyway. That would give him more than a year to save up for whatever his college fund won’t be able to cover. It would be nice to avoid Student Loans for as long as possible.

“You study what you want to study.” Mary murmurs in his ear as she hugs him from behind. “We’re behind you one hundred percent.” She gives John a hard look and he shuts his mouth with snap, swallowing whatever rebuttal he had planned.

Even with that, Dean’s still nervous as hell. He’s always done his hardest to make his dad proud. The only thing that ever seemed to get on his nerves was the astronomy stuff, but Dean is actually _interested_ in that and it keeps Sam happy too.

“Don’t worry about Dad.” Sam reminds him later, handing a wrench over while Dean works over the engine in the piece of shit car Uncle Bobby let him have when he turned eighteen – provided that he could get the damn thing running (which he had). “He’ll come around. Especially when you’re gonna be a _doctor_. Doctor Winchester.” His snort of laughter turns into all out giggles and Dean almost wants to let the hood drop on his head to make him shut up.

It does have a nice ring to it, though. And he’d be the first Winchester to go to university, let alone get something like a _doctorate_. Maybe if he came home with something like that, John wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss his affinity for the stars.

*

“I want to hang it in the den.”

“ _Mom_.” Sam takes the doctorate from her and gives it back to Dean. “It’s Dean’s. He’s the one with the PhD. _He_ needs to keep it.”

She takes it from Dean and holds it up to the light. “Then I’m going to make a photocopy of it. Everyone who visits needs to know that we’ve got a _doctor_ in the family.”

Dean can feel a blush in his cheeks and he ducks his head. John hasn’t said anything yet. He attended the graduation, and he stood up and clapped with everyone else. He was even _smiling_. But there hasn’t been any pat on the back or _‘good job, son’_. Even Uncle Bobby hugged him and muttered a _‘knew you could do it’_.

“Have you heard back from any job opportunities yet?” Sam asks and he’s got stars in his eyes. He’s probably imagining Dean working somewhere with giant telescopes, massive screens, and how he’s going to save the world from asteroids.

“It’s a competitive field and there aren’t a whole lot of opportunities.” Dean shrugs, glancing carefully at John. “I’ve been applying, but I was hoping to keep working at the garage until I get anything.”

He’s been spending every extra hour he has volunteering at the local museum’s planetarium and interning at the university for the professors. There were hours picked up at the garage at least once or twice a week, but he hasn’t been able to give it as much of his attention as he’d like. Dean really wouldn’t be surprised if John doesn’t want him to come back full time.

“We could use the extra hands, sure.” John shrugs, lifting his beer and giving a half-smile. “The guys will be glad to have you back.”

*

Dean looks around his new apartment. It’s got that fresh _new place_ smell even though he’s been here for two days already and there’s been five people staying in it while his family helped him set up. After today, he gets it all to himself and for the first time in his life, he actually has a place all his own. If it wasn’t for saving up like crazy while working at the garage for the last year, he might not have been able to afford it all by himself. He wouldn’t have minded getting a roommate, but it’ll be nice to try living on his own for a while.

It had been a crazy day in the Winchester household when Dean got the first request for an interview at an observatory three states over. He’d almost declined just on distance alone, but Sam and Mary bullied him into going. A month later and he was apartment searching. Now here he is. He can hardly believe that it’s happening. Tomorrow he’s going to be starting his dream job and this is happening. This is a thing that’s really happening and it’s not just a hyper-realistic dream.

“We’re ready to go.” Sam says behind him.

He turns around and snorts a laugh. “God, don’t be such a girl, Sam. Mom’s the only one who’s supposed to be crying.”

Sam sniffs and pulls him into a hug. “Shut up, jerk. You’re tearing up too.”

Yeah, okay. Maybe his eyes _are_ a little damp. But he’s allowed to be, in this case. Dean’s lived his whole life surrounded by his mom, dad and little brother. His first time out on his own and he’s moving _hours_ away. There won’t be any hopping in the car, driving twenty minutes, and sitting down for family dinner. God, how lonely is this gonna be?

“They’re waiting downstairs.” Sam mutters against his shoulder, giving Dean one more squeeze before he steps away. “Let’s go before Dad gets pissy.”

“You could always drive back with Bobby.” Dean teases, following him out the door and locking it with the brand spanking new key on his key chain. It jangles with his car key and Dean can’t help feeling a little thrill at the added weight to it.

Everyone is grouped on the curb out front of the building. Bobby’s truck is around the corner, but Dean’s junker and his dad’s 1967 Impala are parked out front. Dean’s going to miss that car almost as much as he’ll miss his actual family. He spent a lot of summers when he was growing up working on that car. It was under her hood that he learned how to fix cars from his Dad and he’d always hoped one day she’d be his.

Bobby shakes his hand and claps him on the shoulder. “Knock ‘em dead, Dean.” He looks a little choked up too and it’s no surprise that he picks up his overnight bag and heads off up the block. Bobby’s just as good with emotions as the Winchester men are.

Dean is expecting a similar handshake from John, minus the encouraging words of course. He’s not even remotely expecting John to pull him into a hug, much less for him to hand over the keys to the Impala. “You’ve earned her.”

Somehow, in between exchanging his junker’s key for the Impala’s, Dean manages to say a thank you. There’s a tight lump in his throat and he struggles to hold back the misty eyes when John looks at him and Dean actually sees _pride_ in his eyes before he walks away.

“I told you.” Mary whispers when she hugs him goodbye. She rubs under his eyes with her thumbs as she holds his face. “You come home as often as you can, okay?”

“Okay, Mom.” He mumbles, pulling her hands away to draw her back into one more hug before Sam worms his massive self into her place for his turn.

“If you get too lonely, I can always move here when I’ve got my degree too.” Sam promises, hugging Dean tightly. “Don't fuck up. I’m taking over your room and there’s not going to be any place for you to come back to.”

Dean snorts and punches him in the shoulder. “Who’d want _you_ for a roommate anyways?”

He watches Mary and John get into the old junker while Sam books it up the street to go join Bobby. His long legs will do better in the cab of the truck than in the cramped back seat of the piece of shit Dean _never_ has to drive again. When they drive off, Dean stands next to the Impala and waves.

Once they're out of sight, he looks down and pats her hood. “Looks like it's just you and me, baby.”

*

Dean meets Castiel Collins on his first day at the observatory. He's one of the first people he sees, actually. After the head of HR gives him a brief tour from her office straight to the lab where he'll be doing ninety-nine percent of his work, she ditches him with a brief introduction (“Dean, Cas. Cas, Dean Winchester.”), and the instructions that he's supposed to show Dean around.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel shakes his hand. It's a surprisingly firm grip for a guy with a backwards tie and a suit under his lab coat. “My name is Castiel Collins.”

Holy _hell_. Dean nearly bites his tongue in half to keep from saying something stupid about how _that_ voice belongs more on the line as a phone sex operator than it does cooped up in an astronomy lab.

“Hi, Cas.” He manages instead, trying for a grin and hoping to hell nothing looks weird about it. Cas has this intense stare thing going on and it's actually kinda intimidating – almost like he can see right through Dean. His smile falters after a second. “That’s not a _‘friend’s only’_ thing, is it? I mean, it’s alright to call you that?”

Cas manages a stiff shrug, like the gesture isn't all that familiar to him. “It's fine. I’m told that _Castiel_ doesn’t roll of the tongue quite as easily.” He turns and heads for the door. “This way, please.”

With Cas leading the way, Dean gets a full tour of the establishment. Literally. If he had the means, Cas might have actually showed him the crawl spaces in the ceilings. He takes Dean _into_ each bathroom and opens the doors on every storage closet and janitor’s room they find. Dean gets introduced to quite literally _everyone_ , as if Cas expects him to remember every name and the face that goes with it on just his first day.

As they walk, Cas also gives Dean a rundown of what his general duties are going to be. Mostly it seems to be research, compiling data, and doing all the stuff he's basically spent the last several dozen years of his life doing. He also finds out that the observatory is connected to the local university and that they're technically a part of the campus. Which means that Dean might be called on to do presentations, lead tour groups, or he might even have to help teach a class.

It would be surprising if Dean wasn't already well prepared by his professors back home. He knew what he was getting into and he's ready to do it – as long as he gets to keep working with stars.

Listening to what Cas says is a little difficult when Dean keeps getting distracted by his voice. It’s just the right side of deep with the perfect hint of gravel and Dean _really_ wishes that he didn't swing both ways like a pendulum right around now. The last thing he needs to do is start crushing on one of his co-workers on his _first day_. He's trying to make a good first impression, not make Cas uncomfortable by making doe eyes at the back of his head while they walk.

The tour ends back at the lab where they started. There's a couple others here now and Dean vaguely recognizes them as people he met in the tour of the lunch room. They wave, but don't really stop working. The lab is just a simple room with star charts squeezed in on the walls between whiteboards and a bunch of desks scattered with paper. There's a laptop set up on every desk, including the only clean one.

“This is going to be yours.” Cas gestures at it when he sits down in the chair of the desk next to it. “That's also your laptop. The bag is on the chair. You can take it home with you if you'd like. There's always someone in the lab, so you're safe to leave it here if you want. But if it gets lost or damaged, they expect you to replace it out of your own pocket.” He swivels his chair to keep in line with Dean as he sits down. “Do you have any questions?”

“Uh, just one that I can think of.”

“Please ask.”

“Do we all have to wear suits or is that just you? I feel a little under dressed.” Dean looks down at himself. He thought it would be alright to start his first day wearing slacks and a button up. Judging by the rest of the people he's met today and all the jeans and t-shirts he's seen, the suit might just be a completely _Cas_ thing.

Cas turns back to his laptop. “It's personal preference. As are the coats.”

“Alright, cool.” He looks around the room again, taking note that no one else is wearing a lab coat. “Where do I get one?”

After a moment's pause, Cas turns back to him with a thoughtful look. What might pass for an actual _smile_ quirks the corner of his mouth and he leans in, his voice dropping into a whisper. Dean immediately regrets asking the question because the whole whispering thing is really not helping his attempts to not lust after his new co-worker.

“I stole mine from the science department of the university.”

Dean can't help laughing. He shares another smile with Cas before waving him over to help set up his laptop. As it turns out, that’s a terrible decision. Cas's bare grasp of social protocol pretty much mirrors his ability to use a computer. During the tour he'd walk up to anyone and everyone no matter what they were doing and never knocked on a single door before he walked in to introduce Dean. Hell, he was even introduced to a stout Scottish guy while he was at a goddamn _urinal_.

It’s kinda funny, and kinda weird too, because Cas _does_ understand the right and wrong of the work place. There’s a sign on the lunchroom bulletin board about company policies and Cas recited it to Dean from _memory_ after they left. Dean’s pretty sure Cas wouldn’t sexually harass anyone, but there’s just a little bit _off_ about how he talks with people that Dean shouldn’t be finding nearly as endearing as he is.

With the laptop, Cas basically knows how to start it up and it's only thanks to a slip of paper in the bag with Dean's new log-on information that he even knows how to get into it. He's got a solid understanding of the programs they use and he walks Dean through finding them in the database and everything, but when Dean asks if they have any kind of internet safesearch he pulls a blank face.

“I don’t use the internet.”

“Oh God.” Dean laughs and holds his hand out. “Let me see your phone.”

Cas frowns, confused, but digs around in his pockets before turning over a fucking _Nokia_ brick. He tries not to laugh at it, but it looks a million years old and Dean’s not even sure if it’s got texting capabilities. Just looking at it pretty much answers all of Dean’s questions about Cas’s understanding of technology.

He hands it back with a grin. “I can’t wait to see how you handle a photocopier.”

“Don’t even _talk_ about that monstrosity.” His nose scrunches up like Dean just mentioned something equivalent to toe-jam. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that machine was dredged from the depths of hell and put on this planet just to frustrate me.”

Dean makes a mental note to get Cas to show him the photocopier the first time he ever needs to use it – _just for kicks_. As weird as he is, Cas is pretty damn amusing and Dean is kind of looking forward to learning more about him.

*

After a week, Dean’s new apartment is completely set up. He’s even got a permanent parking spot for the Impala where she won’t be damaged unless the asshole in the stall next to him dings her. So far he’s doing great with the whole _being an adult_ thing. Hell, he even brings his own lunches to work – something that Cas seems to be struggling with.

Once Dean’s days get sorted out, their work week overlaps by four days, Cas’s starting on Sunday and Dean’s starting on Monday. Out of the four days they worked together, Cas forgot his lunch three times. The first time it happened, it was actually painful to watch him eat one of those nuke-‘em-and-puke-‘em burgers from the vending machine. The second time it happened, Dean gave him half of his roast beef sandwich and struck up a conversation about family.

“My family is –” Cas pauses and looks out the window, chewing thoughtfully. “My family is very large.”

“How large is large?” Dean separates his single-serving potato chips into two piles and pushes one of them over to Cas on a napkin. “How many siblings we talking about?”

He shrugs and looks back at Dean with that see-through-you stare. “More than you.”

“I’ve got one, so we talking two? Three? Fifteen?”

That only gets him a mysterious little smile and that stiff shrug again. “Family reunions are equivalent to the apocalypse.” His smile makes it look like he’s joking, but it falls after two seconds and a little frown line pinches between his eyebrows. It’s like Cas just realized his joke isn’t actually funny (not that Dean even really understood the cryptically vague answer). “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.”

Dean raises his eyebrow and takes a bite out of a carrot stick. “Don’t worry about it. I’m gonna guess that you’re not gonna give much on the family side. How about school? Where’d you go?”

There’s the stare again.

“You from around here?”

“I do live nearby, yes.”

Jesus, this is like pulling teeth. “I meant did you _grow up_ around here?”

Cas’s little secret smile is both ridiculously adorable and incredibly frustrating. By the end of lunch, Dean knows basically the same things he did going into it.

*

There are four other people who share the lab with Dean and Cas. There's Jo; the intern and still a student at the university they share the campus with. Then there's Pamela; wicked smart, hot as hell, and not nearly as terrifying as someone with that many tattoos should probably be. She seems pretty protective of the short, scruffy guy – Chuck. He apparently writes novels on the side. Dean's halfway through one them and the prose is a little too flowery for his tastes, but it's not _too_ bad. Last, but not least, is Benny. He's a mountain of a Southerner, friendly and funny, and Dean's found another good friend in him too.

Benny and Pam take it upon themselves to arrange a welcoming party. Dean agrees without hesitation. He needs the education on the best bars in this city anyways. Pam insists that Dean isn't going to be in any state for driving and she's the reason Dean's standing on the curb at eight in the evening, waiting for Benny to pick him up. The beaten old truck that pulls up in front of him is oddly fitting for him.

“Why the hell does it smell like fish in here?” He glances around the inside of the cab, looking for the source of as he buckles himself in.

Laughing, Benny rolls one of the windows down. “Hello to you too.”

“Sorry.” Dean gives him a sheepish grin and hangs his arm out the window. “Thanks for driving me.”

“Least I could do.” He gives Dean a sly grin and winks from under the brim of his fisherman's hat. “What with us planning on getting you _wasted_ tonight. And sorry 'bout the fish smell. I go fishing on the weekends. You should come some time.”

“Hell yeah! I haven't gone since I was a kid.”

They talk about where Benny goes to fish and his whole history with it during the drive. It’s not the most enthralling topic of conversation Dean’s had, but Benny’s enthusiasm for being on a boat on the water makes up for it. By the time they reach the bar, Dean’s convinced that Benny’s first love is the sea and he can’t for the life of him understand how Benny ended up being an astronomer.

“So, who else is here tonight?” He asks, following Benny into the place. It’s a little hole-in-the-wall joint that hopefully won’t get too much of the university crowd in. Recent grad or not, Dean doesn’t want to be in a place where he can’t hear his co-workers talk when he’s trying to get to know them better.

“Most of our lab and a few from the others.” Benny stops inside the door and glances around before heading off to a corner. “Looks like we’re the last ones here.”

To Dean’s disappointment, Cas isn’t one of the faces sitting at the half dozen round tables they’ve got pushed together in the corner. He’d been hoping to see another side to Cas once there was some liquor in him. The thought gets pushed from his head at the cheer that goes up when the group spots them weaving their way around the bar to them.

After a brief re-introduction to everyone, Pam orders a round of shots to kick off the evening. Dean’s barely slammed his shot glass down on the table before she’s handing him a new drink. “Drink ‘em hotshot, your drinks are on Cas’s dollar tonight.”

“Sweet, thanks!” Dean grins and swirls the ice around the glass a few times before he looks up again. “Hey, how come he’s not here?”

“Angel-face doesn’t like the bar scene much.” Pam sighs dramatically and drops into his lap, slinging an arm around his shoulders as she clinks their glasses. “He’s been around longer than any of us – except Crowley – and we’ve never gotten him to come out.”

“Oh.” He mulls on that for a moment while he takes a long draw from his glass. “But you _did_ invite him, didn’t you?”

She rolls her eyes at him and laughs. “Of course we did. He said he didn’t want to bum anyone out because he knows he wouldn’t enjoy the atmosphere, but he gave me enough money to _hopefully_ cover your tab for tonight since he was all pouty about not being able to welcome you with the rest of us.”

Pam finishes her drink and puts the glass aside before she finishes talking. She needs her hand free to pull a crinkled paper from her pocket. “He even gave me his number to call in case you or anyone else needs a ride home tonight.”

Ten numbers written in a neat and precise hand stare back at him from the paper and all Dean can think is _that’s Cas’s number._ Pam laughs herself out of his lap when he snatches the slip from her. He digs out his own phone and punches Cas’s number in while getting to his feet.

“Where y’going?” She calls after him, tone more teasing than curious.

He waves a hand over his shoulder and finds a part of the bar that’s quiet enough to hear the line ringing. It rings long enough that Dean thinks it’s going to go to voicemail (if Cas even knew how to set it up). He’s about to hang up himself when the line clicks.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Cas. It’s –”

“Hello, Dean.” A pleasant shiver runs down his spine at the way Cas says his name. He’s never really heard it said like that before – like he’s the only important person in the entire universe. “Did Pamela give you my number? Do you need a ride home already?”

Dean laughs and leans against the wall, eyeing the memorabilia hanging around the bar. “Nah, I just wanted to call and say thanks for the drinks.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to come. I’m not much fun at parties.”

“Aw, Cas, are you the kid who sits in the corner with a book instead of playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey with the other little boys and girls?”

Cas doesn’t answer at first, but when he does, Dean can almost perfectly picture the confused look on his face. “I don’t understand.”

“Forget it. I’m teasing.” Dean shifts slightly, a little thrown off by just how vivid an imagination he has.

He was able to picture Cas almost perfectly, right down to the shade of his eyes. Maybe it’s that staring eye-contact thing that Cas does that makes it so easy? Dean was a bit unsettled by it at first, but after a week of working with him it’s kind of par for the course now. He actually stares back and makes it a mental game, waiting for Cas to blink before he declares himself the silent victor.

It should be weird that he knows the blue of Cas’s eyes better than he knows the colour of Sam’s, but it doesn’t bother Dean like it should. When he tries to picture Sam, he never gets the eyes right. Are they brown? Green? Does Sam even _have_ eyes?

“ _Dean_!”

He glances back over his shoulder at the shout. “Hey, sorry, but I gotta go. The adoring masses are calling me.”

“Have fun, Dean. I’ll be available if you need a ride home.”

“Thanks, Cas. See ya.”

Benny ends up driving Dean home at the end of the night, but he doesn’t really mind. He’s had too much to drink to even remember that Cas’s car was even a viable option. But it’s a rather nice surprise the next morning when he looks at his phone and there’s one missed call and a voicemail from a number labeled _Cas_.

Dean may not have gone home with anyone last night, but he still managed to walk away with the only number he really wanted.

*

As it turns out, Cas is stupidly smart.

Of course he has to be to have gotten his PhD and be working here, but his range of knowledge goes above and beyond anything Dean would’ve expected. He may not know how to work a photocopier to save his life (that was just as hilarious as Dean expected it to be) but he knows physics like it’s a bodily function that comes naturally to him.

Dean finds out by accident about all of Cas’s other smarts and everything just escalates from there.

“So, what do you do for fun?” Dean asks, spooning out half the soup into a bowl in front of Cas. Bless whoever designed the lunch room to have a working kitchen. It’s so much easier to bring a can of soup to work than a pre-cooked container of it.

“Fun?” Cas tilts his head and squints up at him. “I like to read.”

Well, that’s a start. Dean sits down and rips open the bag of crackers. “What do you like to read?”

“Everything.” He shrugs and takes a handful when Dean offers them. “Thank you.”

“Seriously, Cas, what do you like to read?”

There’s that little smile again. “Seriously, Dean, _everything_. I will read any genre, any subject, any book that you put it my hands. I will read it. I might not enjoy fictional works that have weak writing or a poor storyline, but I will read them.”

For a second, Dean thinks about asking him if he’d read something like Twilight. He decides against it and asks something else instead. “Why?”

“Because I like to learn. If I don’t have the time or the means to go somewhere, then I like to read about it instead.” He crumbles the crackers into his soup and they spend a good few minutes in silence while they start eating.

“Does that mean you like to travel?” Dean asks when his bowl is half empty.

Cas’s small smile has a hint of reminiscence to it and Dean catches himself wondering what he’s thinking about. “Yes, I do enjoy travelling.”

“Yeah? Where’ve you been?”

“Everywhere.” He holds up his hand, cutting Dean off before the next question even leaves his open mouth. “I mean it, Dean. I’ve been _everywhere_. Name a place and it’s highly likely that I’ve been there.”

“Zimbabwe.”

Cas’s mouth twists in a smile again. “Yes, I’ve been there.”

“I call bullshit.” Dean laughs and finishes the last of his lunch. “If you’ve _really_ been there, then what’s the official language? Where’d you stay?”

“The official language is English, but they also widely speak Shona and Sindebele. I stayed at the Leopard Rock. It’s a resort hotel east of Mutare. It looks like a Scottish moorland castle and I would highly recommend it to anyone going.”

That can’t _actually_ be true. Dean digs out his phone (thankfully much more high tech than Cas’s) and thumbs open the screen. He does a quick Google search and stares at the results. “Holy shit.”

“I told you.” Cas murmurs and he’s got the smuggest look Dean’s seen him have since he met him. He leans back in his chair with a cup of coffee between his hands. “Go ahead, Dean. Ask me another one.”

By the end of lunch hour, Dean is convinced that Cas is an android with the entire internet in his head. He’s impressed by Cas’s brain and, even though he refuses to admit it, mildly turned on. And the moment he finds out that Cas can speak more than a half dozen languages, mildly rockets straight into _holy shit that’s not fucking fair._

*

It’s while they’re waiting for data to compile that Dean learns about what really gets Cas’s motor running. He’s got his feet kicked up on his desk and Cas is mimicking him, though he doesn’t look like he quite knows how to relax like this. Dean’s pretty sure it’s the first time he’s ever sat like this, but it’s fun seeing Cas adapt to new things.

He doesn’t really know _how_ they get on the topic, but before Dean knows it, Cas is sitting forward again and there’s a different kind of fire in his eye when their topic of conversation swings into religion and beliefs. Dean isn’t a part of any particular branch of the church, but Cas goes into details that Dean is almost sure he wouldn’t be able to find in any Bible he could get his hands on.

Even though most things religious have gotten a yawn and a decent lack of interest from Dean, when Cas starts into theologies and mythologies and all the different religions out there, he’s captivated. Dean could listen to Cas read the dictionary and Cas would probably still sound like he’s totally into it and worse yet, _Dean_ would be totally into just hearing it.

And it’s not a one way street either. Whenever Dean starts talking about how he got into astronomy, Cas gives him his full attention. It’s like Dean is the most interesting object in existence and sometimes he talks just for the sake of keeping Cas’s eyes on him.

Even if Cas never tells him anything about his childhood, Dean happily spills everything about his own. He goes on at length about the star charts he and Sam used to make when they were kids, learning how to do it off the internet and books they borrowed from various libraries. Cas even cracks a smile when Dean describes the efforts of putting glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceilings of their bedrooms, trying to get them into familiar constellations before the sticky stuff on the back wore out.

Getting to talk with Cas over lunch hour is probably the highlight of Dean’s day. Sure, he loves the projects he works on and everything, but his job wouldn’t be nearly half as fun as it is if Cas wasn’t here with him.

*

It’s been a little over a month since Dean last saw Sam. Their first visit is this coming weekend and Dean’s so excited that Cas isn’t the only one of his co-workers who knows all about it. Dean already has all Sam’s favourite snacks in the cupboard and their tried-and-true DVD selection stacked next to the TV. He’s really looking forward to getting to spend time with his little brother again and that’s why Dean surprises himself when he invites Cas over to join them Saturday night.

“You should come too.” Dean grins over the pizza they’re splitting. “You could meet Sam and I can finally expand your repertoire to include movie trivia instead of how many stones it took to build the ancient pyramids or whatever that bullshit was.”

Cas pauses with the pizza halfway to his mouth and if Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say that Cas was actually _blushing_. He puts his pizza down and wipes his fingers on a napkin. “You’re not going to want me interrupting your visit with your brother, Dean. I couldn’t –”

“It’s not interrupting if I’m _inviting_ you.” He points out. “Besides, I need to prove to Sam that I’m a big boy and making friends out here. Otherwise he’s gonna be worried that I’m all lonely.” A teasing smile works its way onto his lips and Dean tries to hide it with his own slice of pizza. “You don’t want Sam to be _worried_ , do you?”

“Of course not.” Cas looks down at his pizza and picks at the toppings. He’s not usually one for fidgeting and Dean’s trying not to suddenly worry that maybe he pushed their friendship boundaries into something that Cas is actually uncomfortable with.

Before he can take it back and tell Cas that he doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to (suddenly remembering Pam’s words about Cas’s dislike for going out), Cas looks up again. “What time would you like me to be there?”

Something hot slips around Dean’s ribs and his smile nearly cracks his face in half. “Saturday night, maybe eight-ish? My place. Here I’ll text you the –” He remembers Cas’s phone and laughs. “Never mind. You won’t forget it if I just tell it to you, will you?”

He texts Sam from the bathroom, letting him know that they’re going to have company Saturday night and he better be on his best behaviour or he’s going to wake up with his hand in warm water. Dean wants Sam to like Cas and he wants Cas to like Sam.

Now Saturday has to be _perfect_ or Dean might just never come to work again.

*

Saturday night is a disaster in Dean’s eyes.

The whole observatory already knows that Dean is bisexual. He’s flirted with half the staff, Cas included (though every attempt there just goes right over Cas’s head). But flirting comes as naturally to Dean as breathing. He catches himself doing it without realizing it and it doesn’t really seem like anyone takes him seriously. At least no one that he _wants_ to does. More specifically, _Cas_ doesn’t.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been trying to kid himself into thinking that he only likes Cas as a friend, but all that stops when Dean actually introduces him to Sam. That goes off without a hitch, but the addition of Cas to their movie marathon night kind of throws all plans out the window. The crucial problem was Dean thinking Sam wouldn’t be a giant girl about meeting one of his friends and hoping that he wouldn’t spend the whole time chatting like a twelve year old at a slumber party.

It’s the lunch thing that Cas brings up that’s like a two-by-four to Dean’s brain.

“No way.” Sam whispers, leaning forward and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Dean – as in _Dean Winchester_ , that jerk right there –” He points dramatically at the only person in the room still trying to watch The Phantom Menace. “ _He_ actually brings you lunch every day?”

Cas gives Dean a warm, small smile that he only catches because he’s glaring at Sam. It’s like a miniature sun lodges itself in Dean’s chest. He turns back to the movie to minimize the risk of getting caught out for actually blushing.

“Dean seems to be in the habit of cooking more food than he can actually eat.” The explanation doesn’t do a lick of good in keeping Sam from laughing. “I’m in the habit of forgetting to pack a lunch and I’ve just been extremely lucky that Dean is kind enough to share his with me.”

Sam is finding this _way_ more amusing than he has any right to and Dean has plotted no less than eleven ways to get back at him for it. “But what about Sundays? You work them and Dean doesn’t, right? Do you remember something then?”

“Usually, no.” Cas answers and he really should stop encouraging Sam like this. “Though a few weeks ago he did bring me lunch.”

“ _No way_.”

“I didn’t _bring_ you lunch.” Dean mutters, standing up to get himself another beer because clearly he didn’t know he needed to be drunk to be able to handle Cas and Sam in the same room together. “I grabbed some McDonalds on my way to the lab to pick up those charts I needed for my presentation the next day and I’d ordered too much.”

The gleeful light in Sam’s eyes is warning enough and he turns to Cas. “What did he order?”

“A large fries, that we split, and two Big Macs. There was only one drink, but I had the lunch room coffee.” He lists things off like it was only yesterday.

Dean suddenly has the intense urge to go hide in the bathroom. He’d even be willing to feign intestinal distress if it meant not having to be here when Sammy realizes –

“That’s what he _always_ orders. Hell, he could eat another large fries too, if he wanted.” Sam sounds like all his birthdays and Christmases have come all at once. “Did he stay for lunch on his _day off_ too?”

“Yes, he kept me company while we ate. Lunch is far more interesting when Dean is there to enjoy it with me.”

Sam gives a low whistle and Dean is all of two seconds away from throwing an empty beer bottle as his hairy head. “ _Wow_. He must _really_ like you.”

Dean ducks out for the bathroom and puts super glue on Sam’s toothbrush. All in all, that’s a terrible idea. He never should have left them alone for any length of time.

“Cas is staying the night.” Sam announces before Dean’s even sat back down in his chair. “He’ll have had too much to drink by the time we’re done the movies, so he’s gotta stay the night. You live closer than he does to work anyways.”

“I’m fine to drive, really.” Cas insists and he’s getting fidgety again, picking at the label on the bottle of beer. “I’ll stop drinking now and by the time we’re done, I’ll be sober enough to drive.”

“But you’re not stopping now.” He pulls the empty bottle from Cas’s hands and replaces it with a full one. “You can’t be the only one not drinking. That’s not how parties go.”

Some _‘party’_. Dean shrugs and slides lower in his chair. “If you don’t mind the couch, you can stay.” If Sam wasn’t here, he’d probably have joked and offered his bed up too – not that Cas would’ve understand that suggestive suggestion.

And that’s about all Dean remembers when he wakes up in the morning to find Cas frying eggs in the kitchen. Sam’s looking a little green around the gills, but he’s propped up at the kitchen table with the entire pot of coffee in front of him and a grin the size of Texas on his face. It probably has something to do with how it’s _Dean’s_ jeans and favourite AC/DC shirt that Cas is wearing under his old trenchcoat.

Seeing Cas in _his_ clothes was not the first thing Dean expected to see, so he thinks he can be granted a little leeway with how he kinda just stands in the doorway and stares. Sam seems caught between a hangover and wanting to photograph this moment for years to come. He even clears his throat and mutters a “Mornin’, Dean.”

Cas glances at him and gets this deer-in-the-headlights look. “Dean.” He glances down at himself and then back at the pan to push the eggs around. “I’m sorry. Sam gave me your clothes to wear. He said it would be inappropriate to go to work in what I wore yesterday.”

“Didn’t you spill beer on your pants?” Dean mumbles, shuffling in to sit down too and rescue the rest of the coffee from Sam. “You can’t go in wearing them like that.”

“I would have washed them in your sink this morning. But Sam insisted.” He turns around and dumps eggs onto two plates. It was the smell of the bacon already on them that woke Dean up. “I hope you don’t mind that I used your supplies to make you breakfast – as thanks for inviting me and letting me stay over last night.”

Dean swallows around a mouthful of coffee and tries for a smile to at least attempt to put Cas at ease. “Don’t worry about it, Cas. Thanks though, this looks great. Say thanks, Sammy.”

Sam pauses with half a strip of bacon hanging out of his mouth. It falls back to the plate when he chews, swallows, and grins. “Thanks, Cas!”

He shifts his weight from foot to foot a few times, ducking his head. “You’re welcome. I would have liked to eat with you, but I already did and I need to leave now or I’ll be late.” Cas holds his hand out to Sam and it surprises him for a moment before he shakes it. “Dean talks quite a bit about his genius brother. It was nice to finally meet you.”

“S’nice to meet you too.”

“I’ll show you out, Cas.” Dean stands up and points a finger at Sam. “Touch my bacon and _die_.”

Before following Cas to the door, Dean detours to the fridge and grabs the container with the leftover pizza from last night. He shoves it into Cas's hands after he's got his shoes on. “Here, don't forget lunch.”

Cas stares at it for a moment before giving Dean another little smile. He resolutely decides that his heart does _not_ skip a beat, because that would be too sappy for just saying goodbye to a friend. Especially one that he's just going to see at work tomorrow. And Dean wants to stress _friend_. He promised himself that he wasn't going to get into anything with a co-worker. At least not until he's been here for a few more months – maybe a year.

“Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Same time as always.” Dean gives him a wink and holds the door open for him. “See ya, Cas.”

He nods, smiles again (and Dean does _not_ note somewhere in the back of his mind that Cas has been smiling a lot more in the last few weeks than he did when Dean first met him), and leaves. Dean shuts the door and stares at it for maybe a minute too long because when he turns around Sam is there and grinning at him.

“Oh man, you've got it _bad_.”

“Bad would be the stupid love poems you wrote in your diary when you met Jessica, bitch.” He sticks out his tongue as he pushes past him, intent on finishing his bacon and eggs that _Cas_ made. In reality, he and Sam are still eight and four and they've never grown past that.

But, yeah, for _Dean Winchester_ this could be considered _bad_.

*

It's a Friday and Dean kinda always hates it when lunch time comes around on a Friday. It's not exactly boring, since there's always someone else to talk to, but lunch with Cas has a special _je ne sais quoi_ to it that Dean just doesn't get with other people. Today it might work to his advantage. _Today_ he drops into the chair opposite the Scottish urinal dude – also known as Fergus Crowley.

“Oh? Is it my turn for the special lunch treatment?” Crowley looks up from his newspaper. “I'm afraid I don't need your charity, Winchester. The intern, Harvelle, would be much more interested in sharing your lunch with you.” He nods towards Jo, sitting in the corner with Pam and a woman from one of the other labs, Meg.

Dean decides to be the bigger person here and bites down on his burger instead of making any snide comment he might have about his lunchtime habits with Cas. “Word is that you've got dirt on just about everyone here, Crowley.”

“That wouldn't be entirely incorrect.” He smiles and folds his newspaper over. “What would you like to know? The price for the information depends on what you need.”

Fuck. This is a horrible idea. Dean shouldn’t be doing this, but he wouldn't be if he didn't already know that trying to get anything out of Cas is like hunting for the Holy Grail without Indiana Jones. He takes a deep breath and looks Crowley straight in the eye. “Do you know what team Cas plays on?”

Crowley’s grin is anything _but_ comforting. He pulls a notebook out of the inside of his blazer and starts writing in it. “You just won Pamela a couple hundred dollars.”

Dean nearly chokes on his burger. How did he not know that there was a betting pool in the lab? He likes to think that he's friends with everyone, but no one told him that they were _betting_ on him liking Cas. That's... that's _low_. If he wasn't at least a little desperate to know what kind of chance he'd have with Cas, Dean would get up and walk away right now. Maybe he _will_ go sit with Jo. She's feisty and always fun to talk with.

“You're out of luck, Winchester.” Crowley shakes his head and gives Dean a pitying look that really gets under his skin. “No one knows which way our dear Castiel swings. The poor thing has been single for as long as he’s worked here.”

“There's nothing wrong with being single.” Dean mutters defensively, taking another vicious bite out of his hamburger.

He hasn't had an actual girlfriend or boyfriend since those two months with Lisa when he was a sophomore. It doesn’t seem right to count those few weeks in his first year of university when he sorta dated that short guy (what was his name again?) before his class load effectively crushed his social life.

“Of course not, but sweet Castiel hasn't had a single fling since I’ve known him and I’ve known him for _years_. He never goes out. It’s to home and work and back again. Trust me, I've checked.” Crowley shakes his head and picks up his paper again. “The most interest we've seen him show in anyone is with _you_. So just _ask_ him, you idiot, instead of sneaking around like this. It’s rather underhanded, don’t you think?”

“You’re one to talk.” Dean snaps back and puts down the rest of his burger, his appetite more or less gone now. Crowley just raises his eyebrows at him, that smug smirk still in place. Sighing, he slumps back in his chair. “So, what other bets d'you have going?”

*

Dean finds the nebula while he's putting together a presentation for one of the professors. He needs to flesh out the slides with some nice pictures that'll get the students' attention and the professor had even put in his notes to access their photo database and _'use some pretty nebulae'_.

Cas is out giving a tour right now and Dean's alone in the lab while everyone else is on break or doing projects or God knows what. He's got his headphones in and his cheek propped against his fist while he tabs through the pictures, saving the ones he likes the best so he can go through and pick from those. There's nothing else better to do, otherwise he would be grabbing the first dozen _pretty_ ones and leave it at that.

Some of them he recognizes as the more famous space clouds that he learned about in school. Most of them are ones he's never seen before and they're all interesting to look at. But more than halfway through the database, he comes across _it_. At first Dean doesn't know why he stopped switching between files. He even sits back and stares at the screen for a solid minute while _Stairway to Heaven_ echoes through his headphones. When the song ends, he copies the file into his _pretty pictures_ folder and goes back to work.

None of the other nebulae really do it for him after that one. Dean finds himself putting it on the first slide of the presentation. He even leaves it open in a corner of his screen while he finishes the rest. There’s nothing all that special about it, really. It’s not the most colourful he’s ever seen, or the most dramatic. Hell, most of it is just a really intense shade of blue. But something about the arching pillars and swirling shades of blues, with hints of greens and purples just _appeals_ to him. He doesn't really know, or care why.

The actual name of the file catches his eye when he’s closing all his programs so he can move onto the next boring item on his To Do list.

“Castiel?” He blinks and leans forward, squinting at the screen. “Oh, _Cassiel_. Close though.” It’s a strange coincidence, but Dean shrugs it off and saves the picture to his personal folder.

*

The clock reads 2:26 AM on his side table when Dean flicks on the light and gets out of bed. He’d stayed up later than he should have to get a good look at Mars tonight with his telescope and it was _just_ as he was starting to fall asleep that the memory of the Cassiel Nebula floated into his head. A realization hit him hard enough that in seconds he was wide awake with the _need_ to see that nebula again.

His laptop is still on the kitchen table and Dean boots it up, drumming his fingers on the keyboard while he waits to type in his password. A few loadings and clickings later and his screen is full of blue, and Dean _knows_ that blue. He’s spent countless hours over the last month and a half staring at it.

“Goddammit.” Dean groans and rubs both his hands over his face. “This isn’t happening.”

He is _not_ noticing that this nebula – literally just an interstellar cloud of dust and gases – reminds him of the colour of Cas’s eyes. And he sure as hell is _not_ thinking that might be the only reason that he actually likes the nebula. That _‘strange coincidence’_ just got worse. It doesn’t help one bit that he even sets it as the background on his laptop.

Dean admitted it to himself weeks ago that he’s got a crush on Cas. He’s done his best to _not_ be a teenager about it. Which means he pointedly _hasn’t_ set the background on his phone to a picture of him and Cas that he took when they volunteered for the overnight shift, spending the whole night watching movies on Dean’s laptop while Cas’s computer ran all the data they were compiling. He could do it so easily and no one would ever know, but he hasn’t and he won’t because he’s bigger than that and saving that picture for the day he finally asks Cas out and (hopefully) gets a _‘yes’_.

With all that, Dean thinks it’s moderately acceptable and not at all ridiculous for the background of his computer to be a nebula. He _does_ hold a PhD in astrophysics and he _does_ have one hell of an obsession with stars. If the nebula happens to remind Dean of Cas, carries something really close to his name, _and_ has the same colour of his eyes – well, no one needs to know that.

And they _definitely_ don’t need to know that Dean shuts the laptop with a snap the moment he starts thinking that the shapes and swirls within the nebula itself all have a very distinct Cas-ish vibe to them.

He rubs his eyes and shakes his head as he shuffles back to the bed. “I’m losing my mind.”

*

“You have a new background.”

Dean damn near slips right out of his chair turning around as fast as he does because _that_ voice does not belong here on a Friday. “Cas! What’er you doing here?”

“Forgot this.” Cas opens a drawer on his desk and takes out a file. He points at the screen on Dean’s laptop again. “You changed your background from your car to a nebula. Why? Did something happen to the Impala?”

Is it weird that he finds it endearing that Cas actually seems concerned about the change in backgrounds? Dean’s had the Impala as his desktop since his second day with the laptop and he’s gone on at length about his baby to anyone who would listen. 

“Naw.” He shrugs and leans back in his chair, trying to look casual and not at all embarrassed about the _real_ reason behind why he made the change. “I found this while working on that presentation on Tuesday. It’s pretty sweet, right? I like it.”

Is that a blush rising up under the collar of Cas’s t-shirt? He only ever dresses casual when he’s not working and Dean has made it a point to not mention that Cas looks ridiculously good in jeans and a t-shirt. Not that he doesn’t look good in his rumpled suit and adorable backwards tie. Of course, nothing will top seeing Cas in _Dean’s_ clothing. No, that’s not true. Dean can think of one way to top that and it would involve no clothing at all.

“It’s very nice.” Cas murmurs and thank God he did, otherwise Dean’s mental processes would’ve ground to a halt and gotten stuck on something _really_ not appropriate for the workplace.

“Yeah, this is the best one.” Dean glances at the screen and he can’t help smiling at it. “It’s called the Cassiel Nebula. Kinda sounds like your name, huh?”

He’s definitely blushing now and stops meeting Dean’s eyes, hugging the file to his chest. “Cassiel is the name of an angel.”

“Wait, what?”

Cas nods and he looks back at Dean again, almost shy. “Cassiel is the angel I was named after.”

Dean sits up a little more. “Really?” This is something new and personal and Dean is more curious about it than he has any right being.

“I need to go.” He glances at his watch and looks back over his shoulder. “My sister gave me a ride here and she’s waiting for me. I’ll see you tomorrow, Dean.”

“Wait, Cas!” Damn, he’s fast. Cas is out the door before Dean’s finished the ‘ssss’ of his name. He huffs and turns back to his laptop. “Hello, Google, my old friend.”

The rest of his shift is spent multitasking his actual work and reading every single thing on the internet that he can find about the angel Cassiel.

*

“Did you know some people believe stars are the angels of the heavenly host?”

Dean doesn’t even look up from the mass of charts he’s commandeered the floor for to help spread them out and get them organized. He volunteered for this overnight shift when he heard Cas was going to do it because _someone_ needs to watch the data readouts and he might as well get other work done while Cas keeps an eye on the monitors. Overnight shifts always seem to bring out the contemplating talkative side of Cas.

“Nope, never heard of that before.” He takes a few charts from the mess and stacks them on his desk. “But it makes sense considering how some people call the sky ‘the heavens’.”

“It varies per religion and person, but some say each star is its own angel.” Cas’s chair squeaks when he turns around. “Some say it’s each constellation, and others say it’s every galaxy and nebula.”

“And what do _you_ say?” Dean glances up, grinning. “You thinking the Cassiel Nebula might actually be Cassiel; Angel of Thursday?”

That takes Cas by surprise and he stares at Dean for a moment before a slow, knowing smile spreads on his lips. “We met on a Thursday.”

In that instant, Cas’s eyes look older than they’ve ever been. He doesn’t change, not an inch, but there’s _something_ about him that’s feels suddenly infinite. Dean gets the distinct feeling that he’s looking at something – _someone_ – impossible, someone improbable. And he can’t help but stare right back into that difference. He stares and the most ridiculous thought he’s ever had flickers through his brain.

What if Cas is an angel?

*

Dean sits on that thought for a solid week. Half the times that it pushes itself to the forefront of his mind, he dismisses it as _batshit crazy_ and moves on with his life. The rest of the time he honestly thinks about it. He adds up everything that he knows about Cas and compares it to the Ridiculous Thought.

Cas is, without a doubt, the smartest person Dean will ever meet. He can speak more languages than Dean knows, he’s travelled the world, and apparently he’s not a part of any one religion but he’s actually religious. If Dean was asked who, out of all his friends, he thinks would be a literal angel, Cas would be his first choice, hands down.

But can something like an honest to God _angel_ actually exist?

The only way to find out is to ask. And the only way he’s going to do that is if he gets the absolute perfect time to do it. Thankfully, the opportunity presents itself within a few days when a project is dropped in Cas’s lap at the end of his shift on a Thursday and it’s due Monday. He’s given permission to get someone else to help him and Dean volunteers.

“But I don’t work tomorrow.” Cas sighs, leaning back in his chair and staring sullenly at the screen. “I can’t ask you to work on it all of tomorrow and then I finish up on Sunday.”

“We’ll clock some overtime, then.” Dean shrugs. “Send me the files and information. I’ll get started on it tomorrow here and then you can come over after work. We’ll make a weekend out of it.”

He glances at Dean with a shimmer of hope in his eyes. “You’d do that?”

“For you Cas, anything. Just bring all your shit over and you can have the spare bed this time, since Sam’s back home in Lawrence.” The urge to actually offer Cas _his_ bed puts up a fight, but Dean manages to squash it.

That’s how Dean finds himself sitting at his kitchen table with Cas, their laptops set up next to each other while Dean shows off everything that he was able to get done that day. It’s the perfect time to ask the whole _angel_ thing, but the question gets stuck in Dean’s throat.

What if Cas thinks he’s crazy? Granted, it’s one of those questions that could just get brushed off with a laugh, but _still_. If he says it honest enough, Cas might think he’s being serious and then think he’s a nut job and want to stop being his friend and Dean doesn’t want to lose him like that. Not while he’s still wrestling with himself to get up the courage to ask Cas on a frikken _date_.

Three hours, two beers, and a glass and a half of whiskey is all it takes.

“Cas, are you an angel?”

He doesn’t even look up from his computer where he moved to the other side of the table, fingers still tapping away at the keys in his slow and steady I-don’t-quite-understand-typing way. “If you’re tired, Dean, you can nap or go to bed. I won’t mind.”

This is what he was worried about. Not being taken seriously and then pushing the matter and sounding like he should be wearing a white shirt with long sleeves and lots of buckles. He sighs and shoves a hand through his hair before pushing his laptop away. “No, seriously. Are you an angel? I mean, Cassiel – _Castiel_ – Thursday – your whole thing where you believe in God but you’re not religious because you don’t agree with any of them.”

Cas is giving him a strange look over the top of his laptop, his eyes bright by the light of the screen.

“Are you an angel?”

He tilts his head and a thrilling chill run downs Dean’s spine. “Why do you ask?”

“I need to know.”

“ _Why_ do you need to know?”

Dean bites his bottom lip. It takes downing the rest of his second whiskey to get the courage for the rest of what he's about to ask. “Because I want to know if it's considered some kind of blasphemy for an angel to date a human.”

Cas blinks. Once, twice, three times. Wow, Dean must've really stumped him with that question. He's never seen Cas _this_ surprised by anything he's said before. After a minute of silence, Cas clears his throat. He looks Dean square in the eye and, God help him, Dean feels like running.

“Are you asking me out, Dean?”

He defaults to wit because that's the only defense he's got left when he's put himself on the spot like this. “I'm so proud, Cas. You got something the first try without it having to be explained.”

“ _Dean_.” Cas frowns at him, narrowing his eyes into a familiar squint that Dean is secretly more than a little attracted to. “Are you asking me out?'

Nut _up_ , Winchester!

“I would be if I knew whether you're an angel or not.” Dean squeezes his hand into a fist against his thigh, pressing down on his leg to try and keep himself from bolting. He's always so much better at asking someone out when he doesn't already have a hell of a lot of feelings for them first.

The silence is deafening. Cas just keeps _staring_ at him over the top of his laptop and Dean can't do anything but stare back. His eyes are black holes and Dean's caught in their vortex, but only until Cas looks back down at his computer and starts typing again. It's like a weight has been lifted from Dean's shoulders and he sags back into his chair. It feels like he can breathe again, only now it hurts to breathe. Cas didn't give him an answer and it doesn't look like he's going to.

Defeated and feeling more than a little awkward, Dean drags his laptop back to him and slides down a little further in his seat to hide behind it. If he can't see Cas while they work, he'll be able to concentrate better on what he's doing instead of the complete lack of any kind of reply on Cas's part. Maybe he should take the out that Cas gave him earlier and just go to bed. Then he can wallow in self-hate with his bottle of Jack in the privacy of his own bedroom.

Dean hasn't even touched the keyboard before he hears the distinctive click of a laptop being closed. He reaches out and lowers his own screen to find Cas looking at him again, his hands folded primly on the lid of his closed computer.

“ _If_ I said that I was an angel and that there was nothing stating that humans and angels could not have relations together, would you still ask me out?”

He sits up a little straighter and tries to keep a stupid grin from taking over his whole face. “In a heartbeat.” Dean fails, but the smile must be contagious because one is lifting the corners of Cas's mouth too. “Why do you think the Cassiel Nebula is my favourite?”

That little smile turns shy and colour fills Cas's cheeks. He dips his head and looks down at his hands. Dean nearly laughs. With the way things are going, he thinks he might have the courage to ask Cas for one more thing.

*

Cas never does confirm whether or not he actually is a being beyond Dean's scope of comprehension, but when he lets Dean kiss him in his kitchen and smiles up at him, Dean thinks maybe the answer to that question isn't all that important.

He’s always loved the stars.

**END**


End file.
